


Surrender

by corvidkohai



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Extremely Dubious Consent, Humiliation, M/M, Post-Advent Children (Compilation of FFVII)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 07:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21249641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvidkohai/pseuds/corvidkohai
Summary: Sephiroth finally finds the way to get Cloud to give in: words.





	Surrender

Cloud thought that, maybe, he was seeing things.

It wouldn’t be the first time, honestly. And the fact that it was Sephiroth he was seeing made it even more likely. But even he was hesitant to admit that killing someone three times wasn’t enough; surely he couldn’t actually be back _again_. For one thing, there were no razed villages. There was no body count and no property damage, either. These three things pointed very distinctly at Cloud’s brain just playing a very cruel joke on him.

But then Rufus called to let him know that Sephiroth had been seen by the ruins of the old Shinra Tower, and Cloud knew he wasn’t quite as crazy as he thought.

That was what had him on Fenrir, racing through the wrecked streets of Midgar. He didn’t _want_ to go find Sephiroth; it wasn’t going to end well, one way or another. He wasn’t sure if his ideal outcome was another successful slaying of the man, or if he hoped he would look around and find nothing and have an excuse to go home for the day and deal with this problem tomorrow. He had half a mind to put it off entirely, but Sephiroth wasn’t something you could afford to just _ignore_. If you did that, bad things tended to happen, like large flaming meteors appearing in the sky.

So Cloud parked Fenrir at the old Tower and pulled the pieces of First Tsurugi from where they were stowed, slowly assembling his blade. He knew that he would need all of it if it actually came to a fight; he couldn’t afford to fight at anything less than his peak when he went against Sephiroth.

He stood there, with his hands on his hips, looking up at the Tower, unsure of where to start. Last time he’d been here, he and Sephiroth had carved off large chunks of the building to throw at each other and use as battle platforms. Even if they hadn’t, Meteor had nearly hit the thing, and it was bound to be unsteady. Yet there were no buildings nearby as tall, so he couldn’t climb a different one and leap to the top of the Tower, and he was reasonably certain he needed to look at the top. He could scale it? He wasn’t a particularly skilled climber; he couldn’t scuttle up buildings like a spider the way Reno did. But his SOLDIER strength did mean he could just slam his hand into the side of the building to make handholds, so skill wasn’t really required. It would be tedious, but that was more an inconvenience than an issue. His concern was it tiring him out before he ever even made it to Sephiroth.

Instead, he chose the stupid option, justifying it with the idea that, even if the Tower came down on him, he’d probably survive it. If he stuck to the edges of the building, he was pretty certain he could just kick through a wall and escape. A freefall to the ground might sting his joints when he landed, but that was about the worst he expected.

With horrible double-vision the whole time, Cloud entered the building on the ground level and made a bee-line for the emergency staircase he had used so many years ago to invade and break Aeris out of captivity. He couldn’t help but remember the way Tifa and Barret tired, having to pause to breathe every few steps while Cloud raced ahead, anxious to find Aeris and unhindered by virtue of his enhancements. He remembered the irritation he’d felt with them for slowing things down when he paused at the top of the stairs to wait for them to catch up. He hadn’t been able to help but think that he would have been able to do this faster alone, that it would have been easier for just one person to sneak in, that he was a SOLDIER First and was trained for this.

Those thoughts filled him with shame, now. He was no SOLDIER, and he had long since learned that his friends were his strength. He was nothing without them. He was lucky they were so insistent, that they would have come along even if he had told them no. He always _had_ been stubborn, and you occasionally needed to hit him repeatedly over the head with an idea for it to stick.

Maybe that was the reason why. He was half-lost in memories as he ran up the stairs, reminiscing about when things had been bad but nowhere near as bad as they could get. Simpler, surely, when his concerns were mercenary work and eco-terrorism, not saving the world. Later, he would blame it on those thoughts, that he almost ran right into Sephiroth, who had been waiting for him on one of the landings.

When he finally caught proper sight of him, Cloud tried to pull himself to a halt, but had too much momentum built Sephiroth snagged his throat, using his momentum against him and swinging him around to pin him against the wall.

Cloud swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing against Sephiroth’s palm. This was bad. Sephiroth had always, _always_ had the upper hand in brute strength. Cloud’s forte was his speed; he won by dancing around Sephiroth, but jumping and flipping and sliding out of reach, dodging blows as often as blocking them. He didn’t bother with the dramatic locking of swords, where it came down to a contest of muscle mass to push the opponent’s weapon out of the way, because when it came to that, he was bound to lose. He stayed alive by staying light on his feet; he always had.

And that was an issue, here, because now he was pinned. He couldn’t dodge or duck or dance away when he couldn’t move an inch away from the wall. And he had no hope of prying Sephiroth’s fingers free—the man was simply stronger than he was. It would never work.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t try.

His fingers scrabbled at Sephiroth’s, trying to get leverage to pull them away and failing. He only stilled when Sephiroth gave a low, mocking laugh. He glanced up to see on Sephiroth’s face that he thought he was being ridiculous.

“Cloud, really. Is this what you’ve come to?”

“Shut _up_. You got lucky, that’s all.”

“You nearly barreled into me. Was I supposed to ignore the opportunity?”

Cloud could feel the heat creep up his face at that.

“Let me go and see if you get as lucky again.”

“It was hardly luck, and we both know I don’t squander opportunities,” Sephiroth chastised. “Besides, you must know I’m not here to fight.”

Cloud went still beneath his fingertips. His brow furrowed.

“What do you mean, you’re not here to fight?”

“Exactly what I said.” As Sephiroth spoke, his thumb stroked over the column of Cloud’s throat, his eyes trailing its path. “Did you not wonder why there was no destruction? No bloodshed, nothing lying in ruins?”

He had. He had wondered exactly that. It _was_ out of character.

“If you’re trying to be mysterious, just quit it. It’s not working.”

Sephiroth chuckled, the sound fond and indulgent.

“Hardly, Cloud, I’m being honest. I have no intention of crossing blades with you, and I expect that you will stop itching to do so as well.”

Cloud scoffed, his eyes narrowing in disbelief.

“What the hell are you planning, then, huh? Because clearly, you’ve got something in mind.”

Sephiroth hummed, his eyes flickering up from Cloud’s throat to pin his. A little smirk appeared on his lips.

“I already told you. I’m going to make you stop wanting to fight me.”

Cloud bared his teeth in a snarl, a hard bark of a laugh escaping him.

“Won’t happen. I will never, _never_ stop wanting to fight you. You said you wanted to give me despair, but all I’ve ever wanted from you was an ending.”

“Oh, yes, Cloud. It will be an ending,” Sephiroth promised in a purr. “An ending of your will to fight.”

“If you couldn’t do that when you tried your damnedest, with Jenova at her full strength backing you up, what makes you think it will happen now?”

Sephiroth hummed thoughtfully, his thumb petting the dip of his pulse point as it ran through his neck.

“You’re right. It _didn’t_ work before, and that is why it is time for a change in tactics.”

Cloud took a deep breath and gritted his teeth, knowing full well what was to come. And, sure enough, Sephiroth’s will pressed down against his mind, attempting to smother. His ears began to ring, static filled his mind, and he could see nothing but green. There was an up-swell of voices that spoke loudly over each other, mingling with the static, and Cloud couldn’t make out what they said, but he knew they were the sweetest promises. A familiar smell filled his senses, sweet to the point of cloying, like incense and flowers and sugar turning to caramel right beneath his nose. It thinly covered the acidic tang of mako, and it was the scent Jenova had long since burned into his memory.

Cloud wasn’t sure how much time he lost as Sephiroth tried to choke his will, but when he came back to reality, Sephiroth’s mouth was against his, the kiss a greedy, demanding thing. His lips were parted, even though he remembered clenching his teeth, and Sephiroth’s tongue was stroking against his, his own tongue curling up to meet it. Cloud jerked his head away so sharply it cracked against the wall behind him hard enough he saw stars.

“What are you _doing_?” Cloud demanded, but everything was still hazy. His eyesight was foggy, not fully freed from the press of the J- and S-cells stirring inside him. He fought hard to focus his eyes, and when he managed, Sephiroth was smiling indulgently at him.

“I told you. Fighting does not work. It’s time to try something different, hmm?”

“What? No, _fuck_ no!”

“And why not?”

“I don’t want you!”

“Oh, _Cloud_,” he said, his tone fond. “That’s the worst lie you’ve ever told me, and you’ve told me quite a few.”

“I _don’t_—” Then Cloud hissed in a sharp breath, because Sephiroth’s free hand snuck down to cup him, and damn it all, he’d started growing hard from their kiss. How long had it happened? Cloud was sure he’d only caught the very end, but that didn’t explain how long they were at it.

“Stop lying to me and to yourself. We both know you’ve dreamed of me touching you softly since you were a boy.”

Cloud ground his teeth together. It didn’t take a tactical genius, the kind that Sephiroth most assuredly was, to figure that out. Every cadet and trooper that turned up to Shinra with their stars in their eyes dreamed of Sephiroth that way.

“You ruined that in Nibelheim,” Cloud hissed, not bothering to deny it.

It was good thing he didn’t waste the energy, because Sephiroth’s mind pressed down on his again, and it took everything he had to fight him back. It was the same as always, static and singing voices and sweetness-over-acid. When he clawed his way back to the surface, Sephiroth had undone his pants and started stroking him, his touch light and slow and teasing. Cloud was hard as he’d ever been, his hips jerking up in silent demand for more, his fingers scrabbling against the metal of the wall behind him. His mouth was parted again, this time in a moan, as Sephiroth sucked a mark onto the sliver of his neck visible above his collar and the hand he had wrapped around his throat. The whimper of pleasure caught in his throat and turned to a growl as he slapped Sephiroth’s hand away from him. Sephiroth, who laughed at him, but allowed it.

“You always _fight_ me with everything you have. A shame you’ve never been ever to fight _for_ something the way you’re able to fight _against_ me, hmm?”

“What are you talking about?” Cloud demanded, refusing to acknowledge the way his breath was ragged.

“For example, you never managed to fight for Zack, did you?”

Cloud went still at the mere mention of the name. Not once, never _once_ did Sephiroth use that name in front of him. Not even when he’d been trying to jog Cloud’s memory, to make him remember that he was a trooper and not a First Class, had he ever said Zack’s name. It made him so angry he was all but blinded for a long moment.

Sephiroth took the opportunity to continue, saying, “You never fought for him in the labs. You never managed to get out of the tank to help him. How many times were you on Hojo’s table, and you tapped out, knowing that the second you did, Zack would take your place? How many times did you turn him over to ease your own suffering, just for a moment?”

“That’s not—how do you _know_ that?” Cloud said, all but choking on the words. He’d never, _never_ admitted that, not once. He’d known, full and perfectly well, that it was exactly what had happened. Zack had tried to tell him over and over again that he _wanted_ Cloud to tap out, _wanted_ a chance to pick up the burden just for a moment, if it would give his friend a respite. But Cloud had always known, deep in his gut where he couldn’t lie to himself, that it had been selfishness, weakness on his part, that he should have been able to hold out, that he should have protected his friend while he had the chance.

Just the thought, when he had the unfortunate instance that he remembered it naturally, was enough to nearly choke him with shame and regret. That his own weakness had made his friend suffer, when he’d been in the perfect posistion to keep Zack safe. It was a thousand times worse, here and now, with Sephiroth purring the words and watching him with hungry eyes. With his pants unbuttoned and lowered, his erection free and prominent and standing at attention from _this man’s _ministrations, that he’d given him barely a moment before saying those damning words? Cloud could feel his stomach turn.

“And _after_ the labs were no better, hmm?” Sephiroth said, as if he hadn’t spoken. His free hand caressed Cloud’s cheek as he spoke. “You couldn’t fight your way through the mako haze for him, could you? He dragged you around the world, too loyal to just leave you behind. You were nothing but a burden, and he could have escaped on his own, without you. He was a SOLDIER First, Cloud. If you hadn’t weighed him down, he would still be alive, but you couldn’t even carry your own weight, much less help him. Oh, but you were able to come back just in time to watch him die, weren’t you? Able to crawl away to safety after he bought you time with his life. You know as well as I do that Zack’s blood is on _your_ hands, as much if not more than it was ever on mine, or Hojo’s, or Shinra’s.”

Cloud choked, and he wondered if maybe Sephiroth’s fingers had closed around his throat, but no, it was just emotion. Sephiroth was whispering everything to him that he’d ever condemned himself for in the middle of the night, when there was no one around to try and convince him he was innocent. He didn’t know how Sephiroth knew what he’d never admitted to a single soul, the self-doubts and criticisms he wouldn’t even voice to Tifa, because he couldn’t bear the thought of her reassurances. Because he knew that all he deserved were these recriminations, for his nose to be rubbed in what he had done.

Distantly, he felt Sephiroth’s hand close around him again and resume stroking. Distantly, he felt himself try to pull that hand away again, but Sephiroth just brushed him aside and continued. Slowly, ever so slowly, the pressure increasing so gently that Cloud didn’t even know when it began, he could feel Sephiroth’s mind weighing down on his own again. It wasn’t enough to make him lose track of anything, just make it hard to think, everything growing fuzzy, his head growing dizzy.

He became hyper aware of Sephiroth, his words and his breath and his touch. He felt every shift of the hand around his throat, the way Sephiroth’s breath ghosted over his face as he spoke, the sweet baritone of his voice filling his ears and his mind. He could feel the way Sephiroth’s hair fell around them, like curtains, like chains, the press of his hungry eyes watching him, the way they greedily drank in every expression he made. He could feel the hand that brushed over his length, circling him in warmth and smearing the beading precome down his shaft just to drag back up again and slide over the head. He felt the pleasure he didn’t want zinging in his veins, the way his hips twitched up in response, his body seeking what his mind was too lost to consider.

He was full to the brim with shame and regret, but his own body’s reaction was adding humiliation onto the pile. That addition nearly roused him, almost knocked him to his senses and got him to fight back, to push the hands away and struggle. But he could hear a voice in the corner of his mind croon, “Just give in,” and one hand clutched desperately at the wrist of the hand around his throat, the other fumbling for a handhold on the wall behind him.

And maybe that voice was right. When he was allowed to make the decisions, he did things like drag Zack deeper into hell in the labs, weigh him down when he tried to rescue him, watch idly as he died and then save himself. He couldn’t be trusted to choose anything, because he always chose wrong. If this was what happened when he made decisions, if his friends would have to pay the price, then maybe he should just stop.

Something of it must have been playing across his face, the shame and the guilt and the humiliation, because Sephiroth cooed mockingly at him and laughed softly at his expense.

“Of course, you must have _known_ that. You’ve _always_ known what a failure you are, haven’t you? Ever since the boys in Nibelheim told you as much before they sent you home beaten and bloody, too weak even then to defend yourself. Only Zack wasn’t there for you to cling to, for you to weigh him down, was he? Only Tifa, who knew what you were then, well enough to know not to save you. But you tricked her toward the end, didn’t you? You conned her into thinking you were worth something, with all your promises of making the SOLDIER cut, but you failed that, too, didn’t you?”

The words reinforced every negative thought Cloud had ever had, and the pleasure reinforced the words. The combination was a wickedly sharp knife, carving these truths deep into Cloud’s mind where he would never be able to forget them, where he could never set aside all the reasons why no one should have ever trusted him to make a correct call in his life.

“And when she found you in that train station, Zack’s blood still on your face and in your hair, your greatest sin on display, you convinced her it was all okay. Because you were a _SOLDIER First_, were you not? Just a part of the job, just you doing your duty, lying to her and convincing her you spilled blood keeping people _safe_ instead of killing the one person who had always protected you. You may never have said the words, but you implied them in every way you could have, and that talked her into taking you in. You told her you were Cloud Strife from Nibelheim, who fulfilled his promise of becoming a SOLDIER, instead of Cloud Strife the SOLDIER-reject, covered in his savior’s blood.”

Cloud’s breath was all fucked up, shallow and ragged and much too fast. His hand was gripping Sephiroth’s wrist hard enough to bruise any other man, and his fingers had pressed indents into the metal of the wall he was pressed against. He bucked into Sephiroth’s hand as he twisted his wrist just right, his head falling back against the wall behind him, tears of shame falling down his cheeks.

“You tricked her into thinking you’re everything you’re not, into thinking you’re everything that Zack _was_. Because you _loved_ him, didn’t you? You loved him _terribly_, so badly that it _ached_ all the way down to your bones. He never knew, or if he knew, he never said anything, because he knew you weren’t enough, he was just too good a man to leave you behind. You loved him with your whole heart, but your love’s always been poison, hasn’t it? You kill what you love, and you always have. You killed Zack.”

As he said it, he slid his thumb through Cloud’s slit, and he gave a full-body shudder, a moan tearing from his chest. Sephiroth set his mouth next to Cloud’s ear so he could hear him over the gasps and whimpers and whines he was giving, that his mind was too fogged-up to even consider trying to stop.

“You all but killed Aeris, and the only reason she escaped was because you didn’t _really_ love her, just felt the echoes of Zack’s love _for_ her. You lied to her, too, told her every way but with the words that you _did_ love her, and then you swung your blade an inch from her. But you were too much of a failure to even do that, and _I_ had to clean up your mess for you.

“Then there was the Black Materia, wasn’t there? You gave it up to me, not only once, but _twice_, and I barely had to ask. Because, the truth was, Cloud, you _wanted_ to give it to me. You hated this world as much as you loved it. Your love is toxic, and has always had a body count, so of course it was going to nearly drag the world down with it. But your hate is just as bad. This world has treated you terribly, from the Nibel children, to the troopers of Shinra, to Hojo. It left you bloody and bruised, chewed you up and spat you out, and you’ve always _hated_ it for that, haven’t you?”

Sephiroth’s lips brushed the shell of his ear, his words a purr that reached down to the deepest parts of him, curled around his bones and his brainstem and every cell in his body. If what he said was a sword, then every word was a blow Cloud couldn’t parry, every syllable a twist of the wrist to disarm him. He felt bloody and laid bare. He could feel Sephiroth rooting around in his head, pulling up old memories and emotions to read, to pick apart and lay back out in front of Cloud’s eyes, gesturing to every damning inch. He could feel the echoes of Sephiroth’s words in the memories, knew he was saying nothing but the truth, that these were all condemnations he had told himself before because they were all accurate.

“_That’s_ why it felt so good to give me the Black Materia, Cloud. You’ve always told yourself pretty excuses about how it was me playing in your head, how I was controlling you, how I made you into the puppet I always said you were for that one brief moment. But we both know it was really because you wanted the world to burn as much as I did, because your hate is holy fire as much as your love is arsenic, and the combination of the two was always going to tear the world down. It was _ecstasy_, Cloud, bone-deep _ecstasy_, because you gave me the means to do what you were always too afraid to do yourself. You knew I didn’t have your reservations, that I would do what you couldn’t, and it filled you with unimaginable pleasure to give me the chance.”

Cloud’s mind was drifting so far away, fogged like damp glass, his thoughts slow like they were drenched in tar. He couldn’t get himself to _think_, just absorb what was being said, and it all felt so familiar it was easy to accept as truth. It reinforced every dark thought he’d ever had, and his body reacted in kind. The shame, the regret, the humiliation washed over him like a rip current, pulling him into the depths to drown. He felt nauseous; his hands trembled, and it wasn’t from pleasure. 

The rest of him, though, was overcome with arousal. He was so hard he ached, and Sephiroth’s hand moved easily over him from the sheer amount of precome he was leaking. He couldn’t stop the sounds of ecstasy that dribbled from his lips, or the way his hips worked with the motion of Sephiroth’s hand, pressing up into that touch desperately. He would shudder, hard, when Sephiroth moved his hand just right, or when he paused to lick the shell of Cloud’s ear.

He didn’t know what was on his face: pleasure or shame.

“And that’s why you should give in again, Cloud. It felt like a dream when you gave me the Black Materia, and it feels like a dream, now. It will always feel this good to yield to me, Cloud. You want to watch the world burn, and I can do that for you. You want to stop thinking, because you’ve never liked where your thoughts turn when you’re left alone with them, and I can stop them. You want to be free from the obligations you have to your friends; I will sever those ties. The world you hate so much looks at you and expects a savior; I look at you and expect only that you yield. It would be so simple, wouldn’t it? To stop fighting. And it would feel so _good_ to give up, to set down the heavy burden you’ve been shouldering all alone for so long. It would be _ecstasy_ all over again, to let me have my way, to let me give you everything you want. Why bother fighting me, Cloud? It’s not what you desire, and it never has been.”

There was a pause, heavy and pregnant with meaning, and Cloud knew he was supposed to fill it. But his thoughts were so scattered, blown like ash in the wind, and Sephiroth was the gale that pushed them. He tried desperately to find what _he_ wanted to say, but that was just out of reach. He fumbled to find it and all he came up with was what Sephiroth had told him, what he was pressing like a film over Cloud’s mind, the only thing within reach.

So, even though as he said it he knew it wasn’t what he ought to say, wasn’t what Tifa would want him to say, he choked out, “_Please_,” his voice cracking on the desperate word.

Sephiroth hummed, the sound deep and pleased in his throat. His hand sped up on Cloud cock, and Cloud’s hand on the metal of the wall tightened hard enough his fingers burst right through it, curling the sheet metal in his grip.

“Please what, Cloud?”

“Please, I—anything you want, Sephiroth, let me give you anything you want,” he begged, his mind so scrambled he couldn’t be sure what was coming out of his mouth. He thought it wasn’t what he was supposed to say, but it tasted like the truth on his tongue, so he continued. “I—I don’t want to fight you, I never have, and I’m so _tired_. I can’t bear to see Tifa look at me with hope, or the kids smile at me like I’ve ever done the right thing when I do nothing but fail, and I can’t see Aeris come to me with forgiveness and expect me to do it right this time. I can’t see Zack smile at me like I didn’t betray him, please, _please_, just help me _forget_.”

“Come for me, then, Cloud,” Sephiroth breathed into his ear, “and it will all go away.”

For all that Cloud had ever fought Sephiroth, for all that he’d never once taken a command from him easily, even when he’d given over the Black Materia, he was helpless to do anything but obey this one. He came hard into Sephiroth’s hand with a cry, high and sharp. His eyes pinched shut as his head fell back, cum coating Sephiroth’s grip, the way his hand worked him through the orgasm painting white over the entirety of his length.

Only, when he came down from his high and opened his eyes again, it wasn’t Cloud looking out, anymore.

Sephiroth rolled Cloud’s shoulders, cracked his neck, and let their bodies align as he settled into Cloud’s skin. It had been easy to possess Kadaj when the outside Jenova cells had been introduced. This was a little more difficult without a piece of Jenova material being added. But the post-orgasm relaxation gave him the smallest crack in Cloud’s defenses, a way to get his foot in the door. The window was miniscule, but open just wide enough for Sephiroth to climb in. With Cloud’s will subdued, it was enough.

He shook his head, clearing the last of Cloud from it, as he felt the blond settle down into a deep sleep in the back of his mind, where he wouldn’t be a problem any longer. He doubted he would wake anytime soon, and even if he did, he would be easy to subdue, now that he was at home in his flesh and his will had been worn down with everything he’d never wanted to hear.

Sephiroth sighed, pleased with the post-orgasm lassitude in this body and his triumph over Cloud, and set off down the emergency staircase at a slow pace. He was in no hurry, after all. This would be a little more difficult, without the Black Materia and Meteor to take out the Planet in one fell swoop. But it would be more fulfilling to do it the hard way, more satisfying in the end to burn the world piece by piece with his own hand.

After all, with Cloud out of the way, there was no one left who could stop him.


End file.
